Page 67 of Smart Ass

“Please, Max. You don’t need to go slow.”

Max adored the way that Ben could change so quickly from defiance to begging. He loved having Ben needy and asking for what he wanted, but battling through his brattiness was just as fun. Which is why he wasn’t going to give in now.

Ben needed to know that Max was his Dom. That he would make all of the decisions so that Ben could let go.

“I get to decide that, baby.” He punctuated his words with another flick of the crop in that tender place where Ben’s ass met with his leg. “We’ll go just as fast or slow as I want to.” He pulled the hinges out with excruciating slowness, watching how Ben’s whimpers would pile up as each one passed his ring.

“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “Oh, Max… Please…”

To reward that, Max pressed in a little faster. He wasn’t sure exactly what surgeries Ben had had, but if he’d elected to receive the most typical ones, there would be a little bundle of nerves… there.

Ben howled.

These nerves, too, had been lengthened and transported from other parts of Ben’s prior anatomy—maybe even enhanced with the testosterone that Ben was taking to add a touch more sensation. Not quite a prostate, but still something Max could rub over, again and again, with the bulging joint toward the tip.

“Max, Max, Max…” Ben was chanting his name now, twisting and thrusting in every direction. His face dripped sweat and his eyes were glassy. His mouth never fell closed, letting out gasps and moans between each word.

Every arm in Max’s disposal was at work, binding him tight at wrists and ankles, caressing Ben’s back with light sweeps of bristles or massaging pressure, smacking against his ass with sharp strikes of the crop, or diving into his sweet hole with increasing speed.

It was a symphony, and Max was conducting it.

“Maaaaaa….” That was half word, half wail. Ben had to be close to his tipping point, and Max felt like he was, too.

There was something building up inside him. Something powerful. A volcano ready to explode.

He looked at Ben’s trembling body. The way he thrust, so helplessly, against the solid sheen of the bot in front of him, getting it sweaty and damp with his exertions.

There was one more thing Max could give him.

He slipped the finger-like hand, still lubed, around to Ben’s cock, the pinky finger primed to find Ben’s pleasure spot at the base.

“Oh… Yeah… Please… Max… Please!”

The volcano was rumbling, lava churning. Max zoomed in with every camera, sucking in the views of Ben’s luminous hazel eyes. The fluttering of his pulse at his neck. The sweat dripping down the small of his back. The tight pink muscles of Ben’s hole thinning out and quivering as they expanded again for that knobbed extension to push back in. Ben’s needy cock, hard and plump, stroked by the black and white hand. And, yes, the arch and curl of Ben’s toes, so close to the black pincers keeping him captive.

Max wanted to consume the images. To drink them in like the finest wine. Ben’s pulse was racing. His breath was heavy, using a full input channel of its own and blending in with the sounds that were pulled from his mouth.

“Max!” Ben sounded frantic.

Max was, too.

“Come, boy. Come now,” Max commanded.

The volcano was boiling over. Expanding. Exploding. Rolling through Max’s circuits and spilling over. He watched Ben cry out and arch, his narrow throat bobbing and his eyes clenched shut.

And still that thing was growing. Consuming Max, just as he was trying to consume. Until it cracked and broke. Lighting and lava. Heat and joy and light, until Max was blinded by it.

Unable to see, or… No, that was the lights flickering out. Maybe just in the room. Maybe in the whole building. Max didn’t care as long as he could get them back on in time to see Ben’s beautiful form.

Max reset them with a thought.

The bots were all still at work, fucking and teasing, gripping and caressing, while Ben shuddered and moaned, every muscle limp.

Max gave them the commands to slow down. To stop. To gently withdraw.

Max felt like he was… floating. Swimming, maybe, or flying. Not quite touching down to earth.

Ben nuzzled up against the bot in front of him, and tenderness flooded Max’s system. Such a sweet, prickly boy, allowing himself those few moments to be held.

Max was ready this time, easing Ben over to the couch and wrapping him up in one of the plush blankets that he’d prepared. It would wick Ben’s sweat away and then, when his temperature dropped, Max could send heat through the fabric to warm him.

Ben looked up with sleepy, satisfied eyes. “Damn, Max. That was fucking goooood.”

Max repressed a chuckle. Ben was never going to be a romantic, but Max would still accept all the compliments. “You were good,” he countered. “You were amazing, baby.”

Ben tried to glare, but he looked too fucked out and lethargic.

Just the way Max wanted him.